After that we called the doctor absent-minded and made jokes about the likelihood of his sewing up sponges in a patient’s body after an operation. To anyone who ever saw him operate, there could seem no risk of that. But he did, occasionally, forget appointments, and outside his professional work there lay a misty territory in which he could not be relied upon except for good intentions. This business of helping Leni to find a job was in just such territory. His promises had been sincere enough, but he had had no idea of the practical difficulties that might lie ahead. The uncomfortable thing (to him) was that she had to leave at all; not till the second week of the fortnight did he suddenly realize that within a few days she might find herself with nowhere else to go. Her arm was still unfit for the strain of regular stage dancing, even if any theatrical work had been on offer; and he had innocently imagined that in the last resort a knowledge of German would easily secure her a post in some school. He was surprised to find that so many other qualifications were required.

When, however, he returned to the house at midday on the morning after the musical party, Leni had news. A private school near Manchester was actually advertising for a part-time teacher of German — “no diplomas necessary, only a guaranteed ability to speak and teach the language.” David, perceiving no freakishness in this, but simply common sense, was delighted; clearly it was just the thing. He even exclaimed: “Why, I go to Manchester now and again — I shall be able to look you up!”

All afternoon a warm feeling enveloped him which was really a childish dream that this business of Leni, himself, and Jessica might be settled with good will all round and to everyone’s satisfaction: Leni in this new job, he himself seeing her from time to time, and Jessica — well, changing a little. It wasn’t that he wanted anything more of her — merely an absence of that silent hostility, that cold brooding of which he had lately become aware. So much of his life was beyond anything that she could touch; yet the part that wasn’t, though small, could fret the larger part, and did.

Leni wrote an application for the job, and David composed a testimonial for her to enclose with it. Then he went out to visit two or three cases. It was a hot day, glooming over with an approaching storm, and when he returned about four o’clock he went into the drawing-room because he saw it was cool with drawn blinds and also empty. Jessica’s recent presence showed in a pile of letters on the bureau, addressed in her writing and waiting for the post. He might not have noticed them had not his sleeve, in passing, swept them over. Picking them up, he saw that one was addressed to the school near Manchester. Then Jessica entered, followed by Susan with the tea things, and he had the swift feeling that Jessica knew all about his having seen the address on that letter. He felt uneasy — partly, no doubt, his usual physical reaction to a storm. It was certainly coming. All day the heat wave had been lifting to a climax; the sky had grown opaque, like soiled muslin through which sunlight could barely strain. Then blackness began in a little patch and spread over half the sky. The storm broke while Jessica was pouring tea, and she said immediately: “David, please put the window up — we shall have all the tops of the curtains drenched.”